The Road to Recovery
by Cybra
Summary: The (more positive) sequel to "Soul Snuffed Out". (Format is fixed.)


The Road to Recovery

By Cybra

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A/N: I sincerely apologize to all those Hey Arnold! fans I insulted the last time around. I decided to include my reasoning in this follow-up fic, but I changed from the original plan of the story. Maybe this will make a better fic than my original idea. Please read my added notes at the very bottom.

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Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold!, so there.

"Blah, blah, blah…" Helga G. Pataki muttered as she only half-listened to the news her dad was watching.

Right now, Helga was eating breakfast and getting ready for another typical day that would be mostly spent being bored in school and then daydreaming about her crush, Arnold. She wondered what sort of fantasy her mind would come up with that day. It had to be better than that geography lesson Mr. Simmons was planning.

At the words "PS 118", Helga chose to listen a bit more carefully to the newscaster.

"…attempted suicide just last night. Paramedics arrived on the scene and were able to resuscitate the boy whose heart had stopped only a few minutes before. At this moment, the boy's name has not been released. However, he is reported to be still unconscious but in stable condition. Now, on to sports!"

Wow. That was new. She'd never heard of anyone at her school attempting suicide before…

The news was troubling, but she pushed it out of her mind. Nobody she knew would do such a thing.

~@~

"Class, I'm afraid that Arnold will not be joining us for quite some time," Mr. Simmons told his class, trying not to lose his courage in order to tell them the disturbing news.

The students glanced at each other in surprise.

Nadine raised her hand and asked when her teacher nodded for her to speak, "Did he get hurt or something?"

"In a way, yes, Arnold did. How many people saw the news this morning?" Mr. Simmons paused, and only Helga raised her hand. "Well, a student who goes to our wonderful PS 118 attempted suicide last night. He almost died after he swallowed ten cold pills."

Silence reigned. Nobody spoke since the news came as such a shock. They had a feeling what this implied, but none could voice the question that plagued their minds.

Finally, Phoebe's quiet, quivering voice broke the silence. "Mr. Simmons, that kid was Arnold, wasn't he?"

The teacher took a deep breath and answered, "Yes, Phoebe. That student _was_ Arnold." He held up his hands for silence as all the students began to talk at once. "Class, please let me finish. I know all of you have a lot of questions, but Principal Warts has given me something that should help answer them. Arnold made a videotape before he fell unconscious in order to explain himself. We have a copy of the tape here. In the video, he asked for you all to see it as well as his family."

Mr. Simmons walked over to the VCR and TV that had already been set up in the classroom. Sid reached over and flicked off the lights as the teacher pressed the "play" button.

An up-close view of a familiar blue-green sweatshirt filled the screen. The view bounced a little as the camera was adjusted. A few seconds later, the owner of the sweatshirt backed away from the camera until he could be fully seen.

Arnold at last spoke. "I can never apologize enough for what I've done. I've taken ten cold pills and am currently waiting for my end. However, I feel I have to make this tape. I know people will have questions as to why I did it. Hopefully, I can answer them.

"The big question is why. Why would someone who helped as many people as he could and had it all together kill himself?" Arnold sighed. "I wasn't as together as I looked. I made a _very_ bad choice that led me to this.

"I didn't really show it, but I have problems of my own. Still, I simply pushed my problems aside so I could focus on whoever needed me. I always thought I could just deal with my own problems later.

"As time passed, I kept shoving my problems into a corner of my mind and never getting around to solving them. I dammed up everything." His green eyes grew hard. "Don't do that. You'll only end up making my same mistake.

"I started…well…drifting. Stuff that used to get me excited or make me happy didn't do anything for me. I didn't sleep well at night, I lost most of my appetite, and I always wiggled out of social situations whenever possible. Still, I forced myself to keep a smile on my face and to at least _try_ to maintain the way my life was." Arnold paused, looking down at the floor. "Grandma told me once that green eyes are very readable. I guess mine were sending the wrong signals. I should've just said something, but I couldn't."

Gerald heard Phoebe softly cry as she listened. He reached over and took her hand carefully in his. He, too, was horrified by every word. At the same time, the pieces were finally falling into place. He suspected that everyone's minds were noticing the subtle signs at last. For instance, it had seemed like those familiar green eyes had bled away their inner glow, but he had never really paid much attention. There had been many silent pleas for help, and only now were those pleas recognized.

Only they'd been seen when it was almost too late.

"A little over a month ago," Arnold continued, "I accidentally cut myself along my arm while helping Grandpa fix the piping in the basement. It hurt, but as it bled, I couldn't help feeling a little better."

"He didn't!" Nadine shouted, shocked into speaking her thoughts aloud.

"I'm not proud of this, and I know it'll gross you out, but…" Arnold rolled up his left sleeve and showed his arm to the class through the screen.

Scars criss-crossed his arm. Many were in straight lines while a few wavered a bit. All of these scars were the result of purposely-inflicted wounds.

"Oh…my God," Rhonda gasped, swallowing hard. "He _did."_

"It's addicting in a way," Arnold explained as if he were discussing the weather, his eyes studying his arm. "Every time made me feel like some of the pain had bled away. I knew it wasn't healthy, but I couldn't help myself. I just wanted the pain to stop. I tried slitting my wrists a few times, but I couldn't get myself to do it. The body resists too much to the idea of purposely inflicting injury on itself.

"I don't know _why_ I chose taking pills. I mean, if I couldn't slit my wrists, there were other ways to kill myself. I could've stepped out into traffic or hung myself in my room. Maybe some part of me wants something slow so someone has a little more time to find me."

Through tear-blurred eyes, Helga watched as her crush put a hand to his head, closing his eyes as if he were dizzy.

After a moment, he re-opened his eyes and continued, "It's getting harder to think straight. I'd better wrap this up." He paused. "Please don't blame yourselves for my decision. It's all my fault. I should've said something instead of keeping it all inside. I was pretty much begging for the dam to break. Please don't hold a big memorial service or a big funeral, okay? I don't deserve it. Goodbye."

With these words, the boy on the screen walked towards the camera, and, after a moment of fumbling, shut if off. There the tape ended as the screen went to static.

Not one soul in the entire classroom said a word. It wasn't completely _what_ Arnold had said that had disturbed them so much. It was the _way_ he said it. His explanation held the same tone as when he would give one of them advice. It was terrifying.

"The school counselor saw this tape and identified Arnold's symptoms as depression. According to the counselor, stress was the trigger," Mr. Simmons explained, breaking the silence at last.

"Mom's usually…well…depressed. Arnold doesn't act like her," Helga pointed out.

"Helga, it's not always easy to spot. Think about people with severe mental illness. They're not always the drooling maniacs you see in the movies. Many people are very _good_ at hiding their illness before it suddenly shows itself. Arnold just happened to be one of those types who are very good at hiding what's wrong. Besides, men are less likely to actually _show_ symptoms than women are."

"I thought depression was only in adults," Sid stated, speaking for the first time.

"Well, it's not just adults, Sid. According to recent research, depression is becoming more and more common in children and teenagers as well."

The discussion continued with each new question and Mr. Simmons trying to give his best answer.

~@~

His head throbbed and his wrist – for some peculiar reason – ached. He felt dizzy and nauseous at the same time, but there was nothing in his stomach to bring up. He decided that maybe he hadn't died after all.

Arnold stirred and slowly opened his green eyes. The stabbing white color of a hospital room made his head ache.

Worse. He was still alive.

His eyes slid down his scarred right arm to where the IV had been inserted. He moved his arm, and the IV moved so that it hurt.

Definitely still alive.

"Arnold!" Grandpa's voice shouted, making the boy wince.

Within moments, both of his grandparents were standing next to his bed and looking down at him. Tears were in their eyes as they looked at him.

A tear slid down Arnold cheek as he choked out, "I'm sorry…"

Seconds later, the tears flowed freely as his grandmother simply held him. Those tears that fell were the tears he'd been holding in for months. It felt better releasing them than it did releasing his own blood.

"It'll be all right," Grandma soothed, stroking his blonde hair. "It'll be all right…"

~@~

It would take a while for things to be "all right" again. Months were spent in and out of the hospital for treatment. Arnold underwent psychodynamic therapy in order to start dealing with the problems he had shoved aside in the past. There were antidepressants experimented with until one was found to be effective. He had to relearn the concept that trust is a two-way street in a friendship so he would be able to avoid a possible relapse in the future.

There were days when he wanted to scream so badly that he wouldn't let anyone near him. It took several weeks in the beginning of his treatment for him to be able to share his troubles once more. About four months into it, things were starting to become a bit easier.

More importantly, Arnold was learning to actually _live_ again. Things that he used to enjoy once began making him smile once more. He wrote in a journal every night under the orders of the psychologist he was working with but could easily see the differences as time progressed.

He was home-schooled until it seemed to the psychologist as though he would be a good idea to try to reintegrate him into a classroom setting.

Arnold almost slipped back into old habits when he learned that the class was Mr. Simmons' class.

Two months before his fourth grade year was over, he walked down the hall with his grandparents, trying not to shake. What would he say to his classmates? What would they say to _him?_

Mr. Simmons chose that moment to step outside, smiling. "Hello, Arnold. It's good to see you again!"

"Hi, Mr. Simmons," Arnold quietly responded, fidgeting with his sweatshirt sleeve.

The scars he'd given himself during his battle with depression would never leave him. As long as he lived, those scars would give a mute testimony to what was the most challenging experience he'd ever had.

"Everyone's waiting for you," Mr. Simmons said, stepping aside from the door.

The blonde boy nervously stared at the door for a few minutes, "what ifs" flying through his mind. Slowly, he reached for the doorknob and twisted it.

The door opened to reveal a white banner above the windows. In blue-green were written the words "Welcome Back, Arnold!" The students lying in wait for the exact moment Arnold stepped in the door shouted these same words.

Helga hid a fond smile as Arnold paused, staring. She had to hastily wipe tears from her eyes as the tears welled up in Arnold's eyes. It would probably take a year or two more of treatment before things were _completely_ back to normal, but it really _was_ going to be okay.

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Final Notes: I know what you're thinking. What the heck possessed me to write this?!

First, I'd like to say that I _do_ like Arnold. He's one of the most optimistic characters and he's so…not smart but _wise_ for someone his age. It blows my mind when I think about how solid his advice is. Besides, he seemed to love helping others with their problems and hardly seemed to have any himself.

Believe it or not, it was something that I always wondered about in Hey Arnold!. I always thought it was odd that Arnold's problems were hardly ever shown. So, my brain began to speculate why. Arnold's reasoning in the videotape is my same reasoning. As far as I could figure out, maybe he really didn't talk about his own problems that much. From what I've seen and read about, that can get you into some serious trouble.

I also did a little research on depression before and during the time I was writing this and "Soul Snuffed Out". I wanted to ensure believability of these two stories.

During camp, I had this friend…No, this isn't one of those "I have a friend" stories! Well, she was probably one of the most upbeat and happy people I ever saw. While there, she told me about how she'd tried to kill herself and explained the scars on her arms. She even cut herself once while there (giving me the scare of my lifetime), and I made her promise not to do it again. I don't know if she did it when I wasn't around, but I hope not.

I'm sorry I offended some people. Please forgive me.

~Cybra


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